In Ink
by SignsOfSun
Summary: Just a little one shot from Alan's POV.


Title: _In Ink_

Author: Signs Of Sun

Genre/Type: One Shot.

Summary: Uncharacteristically sappy one shot from me.

Note: My series, Kettle's Knot, will be making its return soon. I was forced to put it aside while I was going through the Criminal Justice program. That's now wrapping up and I am in the process of editing the story for posting.

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_In Ink_

The eldest of the three Eppes men settled into the head chair at the end of the dining room table. He set the items in his grasp gently down on the surface of the polished wood, laying the thick ivory colored paper right in front of him and then to the side he placed the expensive ballpoint pen that wrote so fluidly that it crafted any words into artwork. The pen had been a gift from his wife, a beautiful gift from a beautiful woman. The intense summer sunlight streamed in through the window at the opposite end of the table. It fell against the metal trimmings on the pen and created a surreal golden glow around the object. It was the perfect tool for this task.

He relaxed his body back into the chair and let the silence of the empty house soak into him. This was something he wanted to devote himself completely, hopefully sparing any distraction. Charlie and Amita were both off at CalSci and Don was submerged in a bank robbery case. Not a one of them would reappear for quite some time.

Even in the absence of other people the house spoke to him. It spoke in memories floating to him. Dinners with friends and family filled with love and laughter. And a whole lot of lovingly cooked food. Spirited intellectual debates taking place in the living room. Watching the game with Don while Charlie provided them with math commentary. All these images and sensations invaded him as if they had been sitting dormant in the wood and nails of the building itself awaiting a time they could seep out into the air so he could breath them in and be renewed by their energy. The memories continued to visit him as he picked up the pen and began to write.

_Dear Margaret,_

_You would have chuckled at me for sitting down to write you a letter after you are no longer here. I always found those types of chuckles from you both irritating and endearing at the same time. Irritating at first because I felt like I wasn't getting my point across. Like I wasn't being understood. You know how I get. But that irritation was doomed every single time because I would look into those gorgeous eyes of yours and know that you understood and your chuckle was out of love and not misunderstanding. So go ahead and chuckle if you must if you are looking down upon me as I write this._

_I suppose that after you were finished with the chuckle you would have lovingly inquired as to why I felt the need to put this down with paper and pen. I can't really say I know the complete answer to that. The best I can think of is that I needed to get it outside myself like an idea that you just have to get down before it vanishes. I guess I didn't want to lose the words once I found them. _

_Oh my dear, Margaret, to this very second I miss you. It has been our boys that have kept me well in my heart. They are so incredible and nothing sort of infuriating. Charlie is thriving in life; teaching at the university, writing books on his work, having a relationship with an intelligent beautiful woman, and consulting with the FBI. Although that last one almost ended permanently and with injured feelings all around. Charlie's view of the world took quite a hit. A story for another time though. Hard lessons learned there but order has been restored somewhat. Order around here doesn't seem to last too long, a fleeting thing for sure._

_I am so proud of the energy Charlie brings to everything he does. Remember he had that boundless energy even as a small child. We worried so that he would lose it with age. And to this day he has not. It certainly has been tested though. To be around him rejuvenates your hope and thirst for knowledge about the world around you. For him there was always something else to be explored, something else worth learning. As I'm sure you recall that curious energy boiling over in him made him trip over his own two feet more than once. The curiosity was such an overwhelming temptation for him though that if he did stumble he popped right back up. The times he was too tangled up in it all to do so his big brother would assist. With the occasional grumble but assist none the less._

_Donnie, what can I say about our first born little boy. He is so amazing and terrifying all at once. He unfailingly goes to bat for those who cannot fight for themselves. He constantly seeks out the right over the wrong in everything he does even when it's not always visible or easily obtainable at first. He opened the door for his brother to work with him which I know was such a touching moment for Charlie and a difficult thing for Don to do. He is kind hearted and never asks for anything for himself. _

_If we worried endlessly about Charlie's stumbling because of his curiosity and need to please we traveled the other way with Donnie. When he was little we placed great confidence in his ability to take care of himself. It seemed to come so naturally in him. We may have taken advantage of that I'm afraid. Trouble is that that confidence in his ability to handle things on his own has lead us to a point where I am worried more for him now in his thirties then I was when he was ten. He tries so hard to carry everything all on his own. He takes sense of responsibility to some new found level so high that I can't see it. He puts other people so far ahead of his own well being he verges on losing himself all too often. I see his own terror of that inside his eyes sometimes, but he won't acknowledge it. Recently he has sought out a spiritual avenue in his life and I desperately want to believe it will heal some of the wounds his work and the course of his life has inflicted upon him. His strength will be his saving grace. _

_I fear Margaret that is it time for this moment between us to come to an end. Everyone will be returning home soon. Before I leave you I wanted to share a moment between our boys that I was not intended to hear but that I will never forget. This morning I was about to come down the stairs when I heard Charlie's voice greeting Donnie at the doorway. It was quite early and I paused at the top of the stairs for fear that Don's presence so early might mean something was wrong. From what I gather Charlie has asked his brother to come over so they come have a moment by themselves. Out of respect I should have gone back upstairs and given them that, but something kept me poised there on the stair. Our youngest, in that super excited yet nervous tone of voice he gets, proceeded to ask his brother if he would do him the honor of being his best man at his wedding. He explained that he had not popped the question yet, but that he wanted his best man's help in planning a surprise way to propose to the fiancé to be. Margaret, I tell you, I almost fell down the stairs. That would have ruined the moment, won't it? To have your old man fall down the stairs and break a hip while you're in the middle of important brotherly conversation. Instead of falling though I smiled when Donnie replied in only the way he could have with "No way! Get out of here!". Charlie responded by telling him it was indeed true and asked since it was true would Don like the job. I'll never forget those words, "I'd be more than honored, buddy." in Donnie's then much softer voice. Charlie's voice followed his with the most grateful thank you I have ever heard from him. It meant so much that his big brother would stand up for him. From the top of the stairs I couldn't see them but I sensed that Don slung an arm around Charlie as he spoke the words, "Alright, buddy! Way to go!". The words were drenched with pride and happiness for his brother. _

_That's what it was all for my dear, wasn't it? All the hard times and struggles we had along the way building our family. I just wanted to tell you that we made out okay, me and the boys. We miss you, but we're making it through. We have each other and the memory of you. So we are loved._

_Wishing I'll see you again one day,_

_Alan_

His fingertips relaxed around the pen and he delicately laid it on the table. Once again the rays of sunlight found its reflective surfaces and Alan found his eyes watering slightly. Probably just the sun in his eyes he thought, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. Tears seemed out of place with the warmth that was simmering in his heart at that moment. It was hard to say. Maybe it was some unique mixture of happiness and loss that co-existed in him.

After one final glance at the letter he very carefully folded it in thirds. He tugged an envelope from his shirt pocket and slipped the paper inside, sealed it, and set it back on the table face up. Once again he picked up the pen, intending to scrawl the name _Margaret_, across the front of envelope, but found his pen hovering over the paper. It remained there. It suddenly felt like it was wasn't the word that belonged there. So he sat there for a long string of seconds pondering why that would be. The memories once again crept back to him from where they floated in the air of the house around him. Thoughts of birthdays and barbeques and football games played out on the lawn filtered through him. With them came clarity, realization.

It was not Margaret he was writing the letter to after all. It was his two sons. The letter would eventually be found amongst his things upon his passing, not that he believed that would happen any time soon. But it filled his heart to the brim with warmth that his and Margaret's boys would have the words etched out in ink. They would have something tangible, something within their reach, perhaps to find some comfort in.

Finally the tip of the pen inside Alan's grasp touched the surface of the envelope and he wrote the words of address that had always been the ones meant to be there.

_ To our boys, Donnie and Charlie._

_ So you always remember our love. _


End file.
